


Nothing Ventured

by whilowhisp



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: College AU, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Trans!Junkrat, casual abelism, casual homophobia, internalized abelism, more to come - Freeform, trans!Roadhog
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-15 16:42:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7230448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whilowhisp/pseuds/whilowhisp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>College AU Roadrat. I'll try to write a better summary later. Sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nothing Gained

**Author's Note:**

> Going to be part of a bigger fic that I'm putting together as I go. Gonna try to work on it when I have a chance. MEssage me at drdsb.tumblr.com/ask if you wanna talk about roadrat or this fic

Junkrat met Roadhog when the younger man was 19 years old, fresh out of mandatory highschool and rip-roaring ready to go on the adventures of his life in the outback. They met, specifically, at a junker meet up, a place for the technologically inclined punk scene could meet up and swap notes, earn prestige. Junkrat was a fair regular at the meet up, took to making small explosives at a young age and kept making them bigger as he grew. Junktertown itself wasn’t big enough that people didn’t know each other when they went to those kind of meetups anyway, so Junkrat knew everyone when he made the discovery of a lifetime. He’d been out in the outback, digging through the omnic ruins when he’d found a secret, the kind of thing he could sell and be set for life, and soon enough everybody knew it. That was the beginning of his problems, well, some of his problems.

Every junker who was worth his salt wanted his treasure, wanted the prestige and the money that came with such a discovery, and they’d kill to get it. Junkrat had spent most of a week living in burnt out husks of homes because the orphanage wasn’t safe anymore, but when the meetup came around, he couldn’t help himself. He had to go. And that lead to the chase. 

Three or four guys, bigger than Junkrat, with homemade and scavenged weapons, were on his tail immediately, chasing him through the back alleys of downtown Junkertown, vaulting over trashcans the scared teenager had thrown down behind him. Junkrat was scared, fuck he was terrified, these guys would do anything to get his treasure, including mangle him, and he liked his body just the way it was. Well, that was stretching it a bit, but he didn’t want to get mangled. He’d been running full throttle, prosthetic leg straining under the stress of hobbling along at high speeds, and he’d half turned as he hooked a hand around a corner, glimpsing behind him as he careened around the brick wall only to slam into another veritable brick wall.

Standing just under 7 feet tall, Roadhog was massive. He must have weighed well over 300 lbs, most of it solid muscle, and the impact of Junkrat running full tilt into his hoodie covered stomach didn’t so much as stagger the man, but it sent the smaller Junker flailing back to the ground. Junkrat scrambled to his feet, peg leg slipping under him against the coarse dirt and he’s trying to figure out if Roadhog, massive, surgery mask wearing behemoth with a reputation that precedes him, Roadhog, was friend or foe in this encounter. People talked about Roadhog, not the way they talked about Junkrat or his treasure, they talked about Roadhog with fear in their voices.

They say he works for gangs as an enforcer, kicks the crap out of people who kill for fun, kills for fun himself when he feels like it. They say he’s on drugs, been on them since he was in the third grade. They say he killed a man for looking at him funny, and crushed junkers in his massive hands. Junkrat had heard the stories, told a few himself though he’d never seen Roadhog in person before, and to be honest he hadn’t believed a lick of them until he was sprawled on his ass looking up at the man. Those hands, wide enough they could engulf his throat and squeeze the life out of him, massive steel toed boots, one with a horn to it, perfect for puncturing precious flesh with just a kick, and the scars… deep gouges across his eyes, half hidden by shades and down beneath the surgical mask. The guy was a freak of nature, too big, too scary to be real, and Junkrat’s brain started forming a plan the moment he recognized Roadhog wasn’t reaching for his throat the moment he stood. 

The junkers rounded the corner, stopping short in their chase when they caught sight of the big guy. “Hey… Roadhog…” One said amicably, like he was friends with the giant, or perhaps they’d worked together at some point on one project or another and Junkrat’s plan feels like its sinking before its even afloat. “We’ve been trying to catch this rat all day!” He points a tire iron at Junkrat, barely far enough away to keep from hitting him with the motion and Junkrat backs up a step. “Cripple’s fast… I-“

Roadhog cuts him off. “Buzz off.” His voice is deep, rattling and raking against Junkrat’s eardrums like a sentient orgasm, sending a quiver into Junkrat’s spine that’s equal parts fear and arousal. The man stops short, taking a step back as he considers his options. Roadhog’s big, probably armed if the hands in his pockets curling into fists are any indication, and the guy decided it was in his, and his buddies best interests to leave. He opened his mouth to say something, a threat maybe, but before a noise came out Roadhog is talking again. “Now!” he raised his voice, just a bit, and its enough to send the junkers packing, scrambling over eachother as they ran back down the alleys. Once they’re gone, Junkrat relaxes, shoulders slumping and letting his back rest against the brick wall behind him. 

Now for his plan.

“Hooley dooley, you took care of those guys like they were toddlers. ‘buzz off. Now’ an all that and pshew away they go!” Junkrat spoke conversationally, shoving off the wall and turning to face Roadhog at what he hoped was a respectable distance. When Roadhog doesn’t speak, he continues like he hadn’t paused, hoping to fill the silence with his usual babbling at least until he got to the point. And there was a point. “You know those guys, cus uh, they are a right nasty lot, I tell ya what. Hah! Loved seein you send them packing though, ran off like a bunch of nancy’s they did.” He giggled, turning to look back after the junkers with a wide grin, smoothing his hand along his hair, singed at the tips. He turns back around to see Roadhog starting to amble away. Oh shit.

Junkrat hurried to follow. “Hey! Where ya goin? Ya doin’ anything?” He hopes it doesn’t sound like a pick up line because as much as he loves the idea of this man wrecking him, absolutely obliterating him physically and sexually, he doesn’t exactly want a one night stand right now. Maybe later.

“Leaving.” Roadhog snapped, turning a corner. 

Junkrat hurried after him, taking the corner on his peg leg and skidding slightly before catching his foot under him again. “Wait! I have a proposition for ya!” He hurried to walk ahead of him, walking backwards so he could face the man. The more he looked though, the more that one night stand looked tempting. “You know who I am, right?” He hoped he did, otherwise it’d take a bit of explaining Junkrat wasn’t willing to do to pull this off. 

“Jamison Fawkes.” The name rumbles out of him like smoke out of a fire, smooth and heavy, grating even as it drifted through the air and Junkrat shuddered. He could get used to his name in that voice. “You found that secret. The one everyone’s after.” It’s the most Roadhog’s spoken yet and it makes Junkrat want to readjust his shorts, but that woud have been a bit obvious. Instead he swallowed, nodded. “Why the hell should I care?”

“Because! Because…” He got lost for a moment, thinking too hard, and he wondered if this was a good idea. Roadhog was getting impatient, stopping in his trek through the alleyways of downtown junkerton a few steps too close to Junkrat. For a moment Junkrat’s stuck, thinking, but thankfully his mouth keeps going. “Because, my fine tubby friend, you could be the owner of 50% of whatever I get for the secret.” There. He breathed a sigh. It was out there. “And I mean, this secret…” He giggles ecstatically. “It’s big… big enough those junkers wanna kill me for it. Big enough some guys in black stopped off at the orphanage the other day askin’ about me… somebody’s gonna pay big for it.” He can’t help the grin. When Roadhog spent too long thinking on it, he started to panic. He thought fast. “PLUS!” He holds up his hands, one prosthetic, clunky, equal parts machine and trash, the other calloused and dirty, but flesh and bone. “Anything I get, you get fifty percent. Money I mean.” Of course he meant money, he berates himself, but he keeps his expression the same, wide grin, wide eyes, hands up in a placating manor.

“And what do I have to do for this 50%?” Roadhog sounded like he was considering it and that gave Junkrat hope.

“Protect me. Help me find a buyer who’ll pay top dolla’.” He breathed the words like a sigh of relief, like maybe just maybe the nightmare was over. The nightmare was never over.

Roadhog considered Junkrat, and for a few tense moments it’s like he’s on an examination table, all his parts being summed up. He got self conscious, thinking about all his parts. His chest wasn’t the right shape, his legs were mismatched, arms too, one of each junk and robotics cobbled together, his side is scarred from the explosion that took his limbs, barely there, but there. He didn’t have the right parts, anywhere on him, and he knew it. He shrunk in on himself, eyebrows furrowing and biting his lower lip self consciously and Roadhog huffed a laugh. “Deal.” The word rumbles out like a promise and one massive hand is offered. Junkrat swore under his breath when that massive hand engulfed his entire left hand, he wasn’t a small man, by any stretch of the imagination, but compared to Roadhog? He wanted that hand inside him, those fingers down his throat. 

Roadhog shook his hand like a professional, nodding once before dropping it and Junkrat’s fairly sure his heart skips a beat when he nods for him to follow. He doesn’t question where they’re going, doesn’t question what they’re gonna do next. He thinks, just for a moment that this could very easily be a trap, but hey. Nothing ventured. Nothing gained.


	2. Chapter 2 - A ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hog takes Junkrat for a ride to a motel, but nothing happens.

“So where the fuck are we goin’ anyway?” Junkrat finally asks about a block into the walk behind Roadhog. He’d been silent for as long as he could stand, and truthfully that was a lot longer than he usually managed, and the aimless seeming walk was starting to make him antsy. Roadhog huffed, a muffled sound through the surgical mask and Junkrat shifted to rearrange his shorts, keeping watch to make sure the other man didn’t look back at him. Roadhog’s voice was definitely going to do him in, he thought, giggling at the idea of Roadhog doing him in any sort of way before clearing his throat. “Shouldn’t I be leading? You do work for me, now.” He reminded the other man, giggling and putting on his best posh voice and that got him a low, dangerous sound, like a growl as the other man turned a corner. Junkrat hurried to catch up only to stop dead in his tracks when he caught sight of what they’ve been walking towards

The motorcycle was beautiful, a real piece of work, and massive enough to fit the man who undoubtedly owned it. Nasty horns jutted out from the headlight, and the gas tank is painted a shade of sunshine yellow. Junkrat moved forward to circle the bike appreciatively and felt Roadhog’s eyes on his back, really watching him. He would probably snap Junkrat’s wrist if he tried to touch the thing, and his first instinct is to reach out to the ape hangers to test that theory. That same growl stopped him short and he giggled. “Hey, hey, I wasn’t gonna do nothing!” he pantomimes surrender, both hands up palms towards the other man. “Just looking.” He backed off of the bike to circle back around to Roadhog. “So we ridin’ or what?” He grins, excited at the prospect of it. He’d never been on a motorcycle before, or any ‘cycle’ in general. He didn’t know how to ride a bike, one wheeled, two wheeled, three or four, so he was a bit excited at the prospect of riding this behemoth. No doubt he’d sit bitch seat but he could handle that. He could handle anything his new bodyguard wanted him to, he reckoned. Hell, he wanted to handle anything he threw at him.

Roadhog grabbed the handlebars of the bike, swinging one leg over the seat to get comfortable and turns to look at Junkrat. “Get on.” He rumbled, those dark sunglasses betraying nothing and Junkrat scrambled to comply, swinging his good leg over the back of the bike and getting nice and acquainted with Roadhog’s back and ass. He didn’t know where to put his hands, settling for the back of the seat after a moments consternation. He wanted to wrap his arms around the big lug in front of him, but feared for the safety of his limbs he tried. “Where do you live?” Roadhog asked, starting up the bike and it rumbled pleasantly between their thighs, causing Junkrat to lift his hips out of instinct away from the sensation, but it wasn’t so bad after a moment. He squeezed the bike between his knees, artificial and real, and forgets to answer Roadhog’s question. He gets elbowed lightly to rouse him out of his thoughts.

“Huh?”

“Where do you live?” Roadhog repeated the question, sounding less than amused at having to repeat himself. 

Shit, Junkrat had to think about that. He’d been holing up in a burnt out husk of a motel just south of junkerton, but it wasn’t like he knew the address or even the cross streets. “Head south, I’ll know the way once I see some landmarks.” He pat Roadhog on the shoulder and immediately regretted it when the big man looked down at his shoulders. Though the regret doesn’t last, at the angle he had a half assed look at his eyes, wood brown, and he caught himself staring for the quarter moment it took for those eyes to turn away. He liked those eyes, he decided, breath catching in his throat. He liked those eyes a lot more than he should have if he just wanted a good fucking from the massive man. Shit.

Before he could sink further into his despair the bike started to move, slowly rolling to the corner to turn onto the street as Roadhog walked it forwards and then they took off. Junkrat yelped, he wasn’t too prideful to say he didn’t. One moment they were moving slowly, creeping along the sidewalk onto the street, the next the Hog’s flooring it and Junkrat has to wrap his arms around the man’s big middle to keep from tumbling backwards off the bike. They took corners at a 45 degree angle, Junkrat clinging helplessly to the man’s back and he was laughing. He couldn’t help the laughter bubbling up inside him, couldn’t help inhaling the smell of gasoline and musk that clung to the inside of his nose from where his face was pressed to the rough cotton of Roadhog’s hoodie. His heartbeat thudded in his head, drowning out the wind, and he forgot his fear, forgot his trepidation. He could live like this, he thought as the adrenaline drove him higher when they swerved between cars. On the back of that bike, with Roadhog driving, leading the way to whatever they faced next, he figured he could live like that.

All too soon he started seeing landmarks, leaning up to tell Roadhog which way to go. He has to shout over the wind to be heard but Roadhog nods after every direction, following them to the letter even when it meant they took a turn almost when they were past it. Too soon they were at the burnt out motel, and Roadhog was slowing to a stop outside in the abandoned parking lot. Junkrat let go after a moment, breathing uneven and he couldn’t help giggling. “That was grouse!” Junkrat squealed, swinging off of the bike and still vibrating slightly with the adrenaline. He shook himself out, flexing his fingers and toes experimentally just to make sure he could still feel them past the tingling. Roadhog huffed and it almost sounded like a laugh.

“Go get your stuff.” Roadhog rumbled, leaning on the handlebars as he watched Junkrat with what the younger man hoped was a fond expression. All he had to go on were eyebrows and partial cheekbones, so he couldn’t be sure. “You’re moving.” 

Junkrat almost argued, he didn’t want charity, even if it meant moving in with a bonzer looking guy like Roadhog, and he had his own reasons for living alone, but it was probably safer to live somewhere close to his new bodyguard, and besides, not living in a burned out building had its appeal. Maybe the cops wouldn’t be called so often on him for vagrancy if he actually lived in a home. He scurried off to room 69 on the second floor, giggling at the number as he passed it and started shoving his meager belongings into his backpack, a leftover from his highschool life. He’d carried all sorts of contraband in and out of the Junkertown highschool with this thing, from cherry bombs to cigarettes to drugs and orphanage made moonshine. Good times, he thought to himself, fingering one of the worn through holes in the fabric before swinging it on his back. He surveyed the room.

He’d been living in an old motel room, not much bigger than the room he had at the group home, maybe a bit smaller actually. The couch had holes in it and smelled like piss, the bed itself was missing, only the broken wooden frame left behind, and the place had no power or running water. To say he wouldn’t miss it was putting it lightly. He headed back down the back staircase, heading for the parking lot. For a moment he wondered if Roadhog had stayed, or if he’d abandoned Junkrat after dropping him off. His steps slowed. He wouldn’t blame the guy, he thought, even as anger bubbled inside him. The guy had shook on being his new body guard, how could he just leave? He hadn’t heard the motorcycle or anything, how could he have just-… No he was still there. Relief flooded Junkrat’s system, replacing the simmering anger, when he spotted Roadhog still seated atop the parked bike, picking at his black nailpolish idly while he waited. 

He rushed to him, peg leg slipping in the dirt parking lot in his haste to keep Roadhog from waiting. “Hey, Hog! I’m back. Ya miss me?” He crooned and Hog raised an eyebrow at him, nodding towards the back of the bike enigmatically. Junkrat giggled, swinging his leg back over the back of the bike and this time immediately wrapping his arms around Roadhog’s middle. He hadn’t had his arms broken the last time, he reasoned, so maybe it was okay. Roadhog shifted, Junkrat felt the muscles in his side and back move under his touch, before the bike rumbled to life again and they started to drive, this time without Junkrat’s directions. “Hey, Hog!” He lifted himself slightly to speak into Hog’s ear, which he noticed, had a little gauge piercing. He smiled at it while he waited for a response.

“What?” The annoyed grumble was nearly lost to the wind.

“Where’re we goin anyway?” He hadn’t thought to ask where he was moving to before, he realized. He wondered vaguely if Roadhog was taking him back to the orphanage, or his place… he liked the idea of going to his place, even as his gut wrenched and twisted sickeningly.

Roadhog scoffed, the motion shifting his chest. “My place.”

The color drained from Junkrat’s face and all he could do was nod and giggle. Well, he liked the idea, didn’t he?


	3. His Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat sees Roadhog's house

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all part of a longer fic im making as I post it.

Roadhog lived on the other side of Junkertown, almost outside the actual town limits, where nobody else was living or if they were, nobody was around. It was the perfect place, when Junkrat thought about it, far enough out people wouldn’t stumble across them, but the idea of being so far away from an escape route gave him the gut wrenching paranoia he hated. The kind of feeling that drove him from the group home more than two years ago. He needed a way out. No mode of transportation meant he had to hoof it if he needed to run. He supposed he could hot wire a car if he really needed to but even the nearest car was a few houses over. Could he outrun Roadhog if he needed to? 

Before he could decide if his peg leg was really up to the task of booking it to the nearest car, much less the city, they were slowing to a stop at a bungalow. It was low and squat against the backdrop of the outback, with a scrubby garden out front and a green door. It vaguely reminded Junkrat of something he’d long forgotten, some little home on the outback with a scrubby garden and a swing out front. Roadhog’s place even had the swing, though it was on the porch, like all those after school specials. Roadhog pulled up into a side driveway, walking the bike under an overhanging awning before turning off the bike. The rumblings immediately stopped and Junkrat slid off, jumping to try and get the tingle out of his lower half. Half the ride to the little bungalow, his crotch downward had been tingly and numb, and not in the fun types of lube way. 

Roadhog laughed, a true little chuckle, and Junkrat’s cheeks colored. He swiped a hand across his face to try and rub the blush away and turned to look at the house. It had white siding, a brown roof, all together not all that noticeable in a stretched out line of houses that looked just the same. There was a mailbox out front, with a peeling number on it and Junkrat giggled, he didn’t even know the street they were on, he couldn’t even order take away, much less a cab. The idea of being so isolated roused mixed feelings. Isolation meant no junkers. Isolation also meant no shitty tea shops that sold boba tea on Sundays when the shipment came in. Isolation meant cops wouldn’t be called on every little thing. Isolation meant the cops couldn’t save him, not that he wanted them to. The police in Junkertown were a joke anyway.

“So this is where you live?” Junkrat asked unnecessarily as Roadhog hefted his bulk off of the chopper. He grunted in reply, going to the side door and unlocking it with a key from his wallet chain. A little pig, the size of Junkrat’s thumb, hung off the chain with a little button on its butt. It looked like a little flashlight maybe. Junkrat giggled. Hog liked pigs, huh? He snorted, following the other man into the kitchen of the home. It was quaint, in a way, with dirty dishes in the sink and beer bottles waiting for the recycling bin. The fridge was yellowing with age, with the recycling schedule magneted to the front and a few business cards stuck alongside it with tape. There were pans on the stove, ready to be put away, and a small dinner table on the right with three chairs. 

Roadhog reached into the yellowing fridge, pulling out two bottles of four x and handing one to Junkrat. His hands were massive cupped around the cool bottles, and Junkrat intentionally brushed his fingers against his massive hand when he pulled the bottle away. He pulled out his bic lighter to pop the bottle cap, using it as a lever and Roadhog simply pulled out a real bottle opener from a drawer, popping the top. “So what, I’m just your new roomie? Don’t have a job mate, not like I can pay you half yet.” He pointed out, sipping the cool beer. It tasted awful, Junkrat was of the opinion most beers did. Most alcohol in general was just to get drunk, anyway, he mused.

Roadhog grunted, pulling his surgical mask up to drink his own beer. Junkrat caught himself inspecting what little of his face he could see, but looked down at his beer quickly before he could get caught. He tapped his metal fingers against the bottle neck, thinking aimlessly. Roadhog finished his beer in a few good swallows, putting it next to the sink before heading through the door to the living area. There was a doorway outside on the right, to the porch with the swing, and a hallway to the left with doorways to whatever rooms were in the home. Roadhog sat on the couch infront of the telly. “Empty room’s yours. Get a job. Go to Uni. Don’t bother me.” Roadhog was a man of few words, it seemed, and Junkrat giggled as he turned to go look down the hallway. Time to explore, he supposed, finishing his beer in a few more swallows than Roadhog did, the mouth on that guy could probably… he stopped that thought, putting the beer bottle on the counter.

First doorway was a bathroom, and he noted the location for later. Second doorway was locked, so he assumed it was Roadhog’s. Third, on the left behind the kitchen, was unlocked and empty, only an old queen sized bed, a bookshelf, and a desk inside. Junkrat fidgeted. Besides the motel, he’d never had his own room, and he wasn’t sure living on the run for two and a half years counted as the luxury having his own room, own bed, own desk provided. He stared for a few moments, antsy all of a sudden.

What did Roadhog want from him? “Get a job, go to Uni, don’t bother me” was specific enough, but why? University had never particularly interested him, just a way to learn more chemistry but he could find anything chemistry related online at the library anyway. Why would he even care if Junkrat went to University anyway? They barely knew each other. Junkrat scoffed, throwing his bag down on the bed before flopping down beside it. He felt... he didn't know what he felt. A lot of things, he supposed. He felt a little irritated, a lot grateful for the plush, soft bed, a little bit antsy to see what else was in the house, and very much hungry. He realized belatedly he hadn’t eaten anything that day. 

Instantly he was back up on his feet, stretching as he headed for the kitchen. He passed Roadhog who was watching trash television, one meaty arm across the back of the couch while the other carefully held the tiny remote control between his fingers, flicking between channels during the commercials. Junkrat watched him for half a moment, admiring the muscles in Roadhog’s shoulder and arm, before heading to the kitchen. If he was living there now, he decided, he had full run of the kitchen too. Opening the fridge was a disappointment, only a few beers and raw meat in the meat drawer. He checked the freezer up top and grabbed a few pieces of ice to crunch from the trays. 

Nothing up there, he decided after giving the bag of frozen peas a half hearted thought before closing the freezer again and checking the cupboards. He finally found bread and grabbed a few slices, shoving one in his mouth with dirty fingers he then wiped on his dirty tank top. He grabbed another beer from the fridge and made his way back to his room. He liked that, he thought with a pleased noise as he kicked the door shut. His room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you ever want some roadrat writing done but don't feel up to the challenge yourself (nsfw or otherwise, i do all kinks except bathroom stuff and bloody stuff) come find me at drdsb.tumblr.com/ask


End file.
